


darkness around the sun

by enesnl



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, a mess???, alcohol/smoking mentions, if the second half seems randomly thrown together its bc it was, noodle house au, one day i will do saida justice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 08:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21013118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enesnl/pseuds/enesnl
Summary: dahyun just wants to live her life.





	darkness around the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Written for TFG! Quote chosen: "I'll pray that Sana and I don't perish" - Dahyun :>

Dahyun places her pencil down, delicately, in the open spine of her textbook. She's finished with her homework. Actually - a dawning - and her textbook is now closed and her pencil tucked into a magenta case she thought was cute at the corner shop. It came with a matching coin wallet; of course it was a steal.

Dahyun looks up, and around. It's midday, now. Kim Noodle House is bustling. Her brother, Myungsoo, is handing a girl - a very pretty one, Dahyun thinks - her receipt. The girl bows, and leaves the restaurant. A satiated smile on her face, and a soft hand on her tummy. The sunlight reflects off her eyes a bit.

Dahyun is called to begin serving by her father, and she vows to finish her homework earlier the next day.

/

It'll be the noodle house's tenth anniversary soon. Situated next to a train station and a local beach, the outdoor restaurant garners a lot of temporary patrons, although there are a few regulars as well.

It's for that reason, that Dahyun doesn't have more than faint hope for the girl from yesterday to be there again today. Dahyun looks up, then at her watch. She'd finished her homework thirty minutes earlier, but - she looks around - it seems the girl was a one-off, a little splash of beauty never to be seen again. A small thread of disappointment starts to form, but then - a signal ding from the kitchen, and the girl rounds the corner, walks into the establishment, shakes hands with her father. Dahyun chuckles as the girl wipes her hands on her jeans afterward, rids herself of whatever kitchen muck her father's hands are coated in.

She sits in the same seat as before. Now _that's_ luck, Dahyun thinks. That seat has the best view of the beach; of the ripples in the water, of the laughing children running up and down the shoreline, of the molten, blood orange sunset, and - if you squint, along the horizon, you might catch a myriad of splashes. Dahyun figures they're dolphins engaging in some sunlit air, or a bird diving down for a meal. It hurts her eyes, but Dahyun likes to do this for a length of time, despite the scolding from her mother. It helps her re-center; ground herself in a faraway place.

Dahyun still has a stupid smile on her face when Myungsoo comes over to switch off serving duties. Dahyun generally tries to prolong her homework time to delay this, but dealing with drunk older men is a price she's willing to pay.

"Dahyun!" her father shouts from the kitchen, rings the signal bell, "table seven!"

Her table. Dahyun rushes over, hurriedly washes her hands. Her steps are a little shaky today, and as she sets the hot bowl down, meets the girl's sparkly eyes - the broth burns her thumb a little hotter. Her cheeks resemble the ripe apples from the fruit vendor next door, and she scurries away. Like a schoolgirl, she chastises herself. The next encounter of picking up the finished bowl and dropping off the check goes similarly. Dahyun doesn't look up, but she _does_ hear a giggle. She flees to the bathroom, rolls her eyes at the red saturating her cheeks, damns her pale skin for once. By the time she walks out - the girl is gone. Dahyun's face falls.

/

Dahyun has been serving for years, since she was old enough to wrap her tiny fingers over the rims of the bowls her father likes to think are 'oriental.' Apparently they look more authentic to tourists. He had trained her personally: to avoid burning herself, to avoid falling over, and - to convey a perfect smile that spoke of home. She was a naive child then; eager for her father's approval, and a rewarding lollipop from the host's podium.

Some time later, Dahyun became numb to the touch of the burning liquid, no matter the circumstance. She thinks she might win a contest for heat endurance (entry: Dahyun's thumb). And so, why is it that, come this girl - her thumb burns like the scorched, ginger tips of her ears. Her smile is shaky, not perfect in the slightest, but attaining one is a feat itself.

Dahyun turns back to the kitchen, picks up two bowls of their daily special for table eight. She's in the midst of serving them when -

"Sana!" shouts a passerby, not too distant. Dahyun pays it no mind until she hears a giggle, a very familiar giggle, sound behind her. It emanates fondness, settles in like an old radio tune.

"Oh, hey," says the lady who Dahyun can only assume to be the reason for the blood rushing back to her joint. Sana. "How's everyone back home?" It's spoken in Japanese, and Dahyun thinks it's as sweet as her favorite lollipop.

Dahyun presents a smile to the diners in front of her, shining brighter than the afternoon sun. They comment in a kind of singsong: what's gotten you so happy, is it a boy at school, you've grown up so well. Dahyun shys away, back to the kitchen, though the coos linger and fade out. She turns back, for a second. Sees Sana hugging the stranger. Dahyun's smile stays put, though there's now a tinge of green at its edges.

/

Dahyun's father is in charge of the music. It's usually an eclectic mix of trot, old Chinese pop, and early 2000s Western. Dahyun tunes it out most of the time; not out of distaste, but moreso necessity. Instead, hums white noise as her pencil scribbles in the answer to a maths question.

Myungsoo is quietly singing along to Hong Jin Young as he's bussing a nearby table. He swears he hates the music, complains about it at dinner time with half-chewed rice in his open mouth. Dahyun meets his eyes, then - he straightens up, clears his throat, walks away with a towel thrown over his shoulder. Dahyun snickers. 'She's just really hot, okay?' he would say. A few minutes later, she catches him again.

Dahyun places an order in for #12. It's what Sana always gets. Dahyun feels a bit weird knowing her name when they haven't been properly introduced, but - it's been a week now. Sana comes into view around the corner. This is clockwork.

When Dahyun reaches the foot of Sana's table (miraculously, the same one), Sana is engaged in what appears to be pleasant conversation with her neighboring diners. They look quite taken with her. Dahyun sees the bright eyes, the parted lips, the leaning bodies; thinks they might be spellbound. Dahyun sets the bowl down.

"Hi." Dahyun doesn't register it at first, doesn't move. But, she lifts her head, finds herself -

"Thank you," Sana says. There's a hint of an accent, and her voice rings out like her own melody: Sana's melody. It's prettier than the gayageum in the background.

Dahyun seems unable to speak, and her mouth is doing that fish thing. But - a squealing dolphin off the coast comes to her aid, and Dahyun is finally stirred from her semi-frozen state. Sana giggles.

"You're welcome." It's soft, and quiet, but Dahyun doesn't stammer. Her smile is tentative.

Sana's eyes crinkle and her pupils sparkle more, almost impossibly. "Dahyun, right?" Dahyun's brows furrow, just slightly. "I hear your dad calling you," tilts her head, "he's really sweet."

"Ahh, yea," Dahyun looks over her shoulder; her father is chopping up pig intestines, "he can be."

When Dahyun looks back, Sana is staring at her with a gaze that says _you have my complete attention_, that seems like a permanent fixture. Dahyun is bewitched, again. Then, a signal ding -

Dahyun bows, hurries out 'enjoy your meal' as her feet scuttle to safety.

/

_six months pass_

/

When it happens, it's only a shock to Dahyun.

They'd explained it to her like she was still five years old, hiding behind the leg of her mother like a timid pet, wide-eyed, as her mother greeted newcomers with a full bow and an extended hand. Her fingers were always pruned from washing dishes, but that just made them softer, her husband had always reassured her.

_"I'm sorry, honey," her mother said with tears behind her eyes, "we just don't make enough money."_

_"But it was so busy yesterday?" Dahyun might not be five anymore, but the naivety behind her words was made evident when she was blinded to the after-hours wrinkles drawn across her parents' brows whenever they counted the till or checked the mailbox._

_"We haven't changed our prices in years, and your father refuses to budge. The rent here is really expensive," her mom sighed, carding a hand through her hair._

_"But I- where will we go?" Dahyun's voice turned small. She curled into herself, realizing just how much the restaurant felt like a second home._

_"We'll stay at grandma and grandpa's house for a while, and then - I don't know." A beat. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she offers._

_"Okay," Dahyun says, plainly. Then goes back to her room and locks the door._

Dahyun remembers their grand opening banner - embellished with a mandala-filled trim and written in English - hung up too high for her to reach. Her parents' eyes were full of hope and their hands wrung with anxiety as they tied and retied their aprons coming to and from the kitchen and the general dining hall. _Dirty aprons don't look good to the guests_, they said.

Maybe if they'd given Dahyun notice, she could've prepared herself better. Instead she has to plummet down the peak of a rollercoaster, mind running at 160km/hr, when she'd much rather ease herself down the waning slope of a flowery mountain, plucking the pretty memories and goodbyes as she descends.

But now all she can do is stare at the paper in front of her taped lazily onto the front door, its bottom corners wilted from being squashed into a briefcase.

EVICTION NOTICE

Dahyun knows what the words mean, but they'd always been a flippant passby on the streets; nothing more than a casual downturn of her lips. Today, they're her reality.

Dahyun's world dismantles, its buildings crumbling to smoke, dissipating into the air and taking Dahyun's heart with them.

/

They decide to have one last bash.

On Fridays, they would host noraebangs. It'd started three years ago when her father had said that it'd help attract more customers, standing in front of an electronics store having a 50% off sale, his hand wrapped around his wife's wrist. Dahyun understands what he meant now.

This week it's Myungsoo's turn to use the good microphone, but when he walks past it's shoved into Dahyun's chest without a word, bouncing off her sternum. Probably his own version of consolation. She shouts a _thank you!_ to his retreating back, answered only with a raised hand as he ducks under the short curtain to the bathroom.

People say her smile is the biggest when she sings. She's not that great at it, her voice unmatured, but even still - the music fills her chest with joy; brimming and blooming and eventually settling into her sore cheeks.

Dahyun closes her eyes as the last notes of the song fade out, absorbed by the depth of the sea and the whir of the trains in the distance. When she opens them again, her eyes catch the multicolored circles of light shade across the small crowd near the entrance, sweeping the skin of Sana's cheeks, her features softening as she snakes through the crowd. Dahyun's smile downturns a little. No one notices in the dark.

Nothing's changed, much. Between them. Dahyun thinks she'd been a cat in a previous life - skittish and prone to living in corners, yet able to smile her way into getting what she wants. But what was she to do when a great lioness entered her territory without notice? When Sana smiled at her, wide and soft and ever-growing with fondness. But - Sana is Sana. Sana likes everyone.

Hands clap for the next person walking up to the makeshift stage, the small tv in front lighting up with the next song and the speakers cranking out the beginning of A Chance Encounter (1981) by Falcon. Its notes ring gaudy and artificial, wrung into a simplistic instrumental with an aided flute for the vocal melody. Still, the crowd goes wild.

Dahyun is lost in a daze when she hears an awkward cough sound from beside her, and when she turns her head, she's met with the expectant look of an eager old man. She smiles, hands him the mic, then exits the stage to the bathroom.

The door is locked, but Dahyun doesn't mind waiting. Soft sniffles travel from inside, dampened by the wooden slab. Dahyun plays with her hands, listening to the old man sing off-tune. It's a nice song, she thinks.

A few minutes pass. She's considering knocking when the door swings open sharply, a woman Dahyun recognizes as Jihyo in tow - a regular. Her mascara has smeared onto her cheeks in splotches and her hair is disheveled, although to the blind eye its uncombed state might just look windblown. Dahyun is ducking her head to scuffle by when -

"Oh, Dahyun," Jihyo says, dabbing at her eyeliner. "How are you? I heard about.. " she stops there.

"I'm okay," Dahyun says. "How are _you?_"

Embarrassment flushes across Jihyo's cheeks. "Forgive me- I- well," she sighs, running a hand through her hair. Dahyun watches as her fingers ensnare at the ends for a moment. "My boyfriend broke up with me," she says, finally. "I thought coming here would be fun - get my mind off things, but- " She slaps her thighs in conclusion.

Dahyun nods. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Anyway, I heard you're moving. Will you be closer to where Sana is, at least?"

"Sana?"

"Yeah, I see her on the train whenever I come back from Seoul." _Seoul?_ "She didn't tell you? She moved there two months ago."

Dahyun shakes her head.

"Oh. I thought you two were close," Jihyo says. "She talks about you all the time."

Dahyun doesn't know what to say, brows brought together in confusion.

Jihyo's phone rings. "Must be my dad outside. Wait 'til he sees me like this," she chuckles. The narrow hallway is occupied only by the default ringtone of a Samsung. "It was nice to see you, Dahyun." Then she runs out of the restaurant, and Dahyun is left to watch the headlights drive into the shadows.

Dahyun does her business in the toilet, thinking of the faces she'll miss. Her own looks almost foreign in the mirror. She lets the water wade across the skin of her hands in warm waves, running through the crevices and dripping off her bare nails. The scent of Jihyo's perfume lingers, still. It's a mix of something floral and woody and - nostalgic, if nostalgia had a scent. Dahyun's eyes start to prickle and in seconds she has to anchor herself on the sink, willing herself not to cry. Heavy breaths echo against the bathroom walls and everything is just - too much. She sucks up the snot threatening to drip and decides to go outside for some air.

The lone bench is occupied by a young couple looking to be in some sort of argument and the tall ashtray circled by a group of older men, a few with beers grasped steady in hand.

Dahyun rounds the corner to where the light doesn't shine, to where no one has to see her. It's comfortable. She's eyeing an ant skate along the wall, when -

"Jesus chri- !" Dahyun lays a hand across her chest. "You can't just creep up on someone like that!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sana says, palms up in the air, "I saw you walk out and you - looked upset." She looks down at her sneakers, its back counters squashed by the heels of her feet. "I just wanted to check and see if you were okay."

Dahyun exhales. The light from a passing train creates film slides out of their faces. "I'm fine." She didn't mean for that to come out as harsh as it did.

Sana looks at her for a few moments. "I know we don't know each other too well, but - I do care about you." A beat. "It's okay for you to not be okay."

Dahyun is still for a while and before she knows it, Sana is thumbing the tears off her cheeks, hands gently cupping her jaw. "Do you want to go sit by the shore? I find that the ocean always calms me."

Dahyun nods, her lashes wet. Sana leads her by the hand, and Dahyun feels her tears start to dry from the wind.

The restaurant is just a lone star in the distance now, lighting up the black of night, and the waves crash into bubbles against the shore. It reminds Dahyun of the large sink in the kitchen, and she finds herself missing even the countless hours hunched over it washing dishes.

"I heard you moved," Dahyun starts, glancing over at Sana's wide eyes. "Jihyo told me."

"Oh. Yeah, I- I did move," Sana chuckles awkwardly.

It's weird, Dahyun thinks. Seeing her like this. "How is it there?"

"It's nice," Sana says. "Everything's alive, all the time. It's like there's life on every corner." A beat. "But it's nice here too."

"Is it hard? Moving?"

"It can be, but - it gets easier. You don't feel so much like a stranger after a while." Sana traces circles into the sand with her pointer finger. "Where are _you_ going?"

"Busan."

"That's.. far."

"Yeah."

They sit in silence for some time.

"I liked you, you know." The words just - come out. But Dahyun doesn't mind. She doesn't have anything to lose, anyway.

"What?" Dahyun can feel Sana's eyes on her, but hers stay gazing out into the ocean. The moonlight reflects off the water. "Dahyun, I- "

"It doesn't matter now."

A few moments pass. Sana is still looking at her.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For liking me."

Dahyun doesn't know what that means, but she doesn't ask Sana to clarify either.

Then, she hears her name being called out from afar. Small and hazy, but still ringing through the sky. Like a signal.

Sana's arm is warm around her waist, fingers twisting into Dahyun's sweater. The sand is soft beneath their feet, and the ocean salt unbinding. Dahyun's name is still being bellowed, carried by the wind further and further away.

**Author's Note:**

> curiouscat.me/enesnl  
twt @enesnl


End file.
